220 MELTON AND HOMESPUN 



in getting a perfectly clear sight at the rabbit. Draw- 

 ing, as I imagined, a beautiful " bead " just behind the 

 shoulder, I pressed the trigger, quite expecting to see 

 the bunny topple over instanter. Nothing of the kind 

 occurred, however, for I distinctly saw the tiny pro- 

 jectile strike the ground a good three inches wide of the 

 astonished rabbit's nose, and with a single bound he 

 disappeared into a convenient bolt-hole. Now, right 

 pleased should I have been could I have laid that rifle 

 down and roundly anathematised it as a crooked-bar- 

 relled, obsolete gas-pipe. But this was impossible, for 

 the little Churchill '250 was a beautiful specimen of 

 the gunmaker's craft, and accurate to a hair's-breadth 

 up to the range it was sighted for. No; it was not the 

 fault of the rifle, but of the man behind it. Well, better 

 luck next shot ! 



Slight though the report of the rifle was, it proved 

 sufficient to cause a general stampede among the rabbits, 

 and by the time I had reloaded there was not even a 

 solitary " cotton-tail " to be seen above ground. I 

 turned my attention to the rod, and very gently cast 

 the minnow which, by the way, appeared to have taken 

 a fresh lease of life since vacating the bait-can for the 

 rapid stream into the swirl of a large submerged boulder. 

 In almost less time than it takes to tell the fact, a sharp 

 and unmistakable tug at the slack line I held between 

 forefinger and thumb betokened a bite of some kind. 

 " * The Ogre of the Pool ' \ " was my ejaculation to a 

 matronly-looking shorthorn, who for some little time 

 had been contemplating my movements from the opposite 

 bank with a kind of pitying expression in her great 

 black eyes. Springing to my feet I struck, and away 



